


got no heroes 'cause our heroes are dead

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars: The Rise of Kylo Ren (Comics)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Extremely Dubious Consent, Frottage, M/M, Power Struggle, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: Ren was three or four years old the first time his mother kicked him out of home. He’s never been able to remember what he did to piss the old bitch off. All he remembers is clinging to the front gate, red rust staining his hands like blood, until she chased him off with a blast from the garden hose.Ben Solo is the precious only child of two Core World fat cats who gave him everything a human being needs to thrive, and he wants to sell his soul to the shadow because all that loving nurture just wasn’t enough.The shadow will give him more, alright. But it doesn’t give anything for free.
Relationships: Ren/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	got no heroes 'cause our heroes are dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/gifts).



Ren was three or four years old the first time his mother kicked him out of home. He’s never been able to remember what he did to piss the old bitch off. All he remembers is clinging to the front gate, red rust staining his hands like blood, until she chased him off with a blast from the garden hose. He slept cold that night. Might’ve been a few nights. She took him back eventually, dragged him from the alley so she could kick him out all over again next time the bad mood struck her. At that age, Ren hadn’t realised he was better off roughing it alone.

Ben Solo has issues with his mother as well. She worked when he was young, see, instead of staying home to dote on him 24/7. She thinks he’s _too_ special, cares _too_ much about what he makes of his life. She also must've kept her liquor cabinet locked up tight. Kid’s only three deep and already he’s a soggy mess.

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he tells Ren, chin propped miserably in his hands. If that bottom lip sticks out any further, it’s at risk of overbalancing him and bringing his whole head down on the table. ‘I can’t go home. That part of my life is over. Whatever happens next…’

He trails off. Knocks back an ill-advised fourth shot and gags at the taste.

In fairness, this whiskey is nasty stuff. The Knights have been between jobs for a while. Ren has his ear to the ground for the next big score, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing if his new pet princeling gets a taste of the hard life straight away. This kid’s worst damage is the chipped enamel where he’s chewed his silver spoon too hard. He has soft indoor skin and a healthy, well-fed glow. He’s the precious only child of two Core World fat cats who gave him everything a human being needs to thrive, and he wants to sell his soul to the shadow because all that loving nurture just wasn’t enough. 

The shadow will give him more, alright, but it doesn’t give anything for free. Cheap whiskey is one of the less unpleasant things he’ll have to learn to swallow if he wants to walk this path.

‘Here,’ says Ren, pouring another generous measure. Snoke says Ben has potential in the Force. Maybe he’s right or maybe he’s wrong, but what Ren mostly sees – sulky self-absorption aside – is potential arm candy. The kid scrubs up well in his new clothes. Broad shoulders strain his leather jacket, and tight black jeans hug a firm ass that was wasted in those awful Jedi robes. But most important – and it _is_ important to Ren, no matter how much the other guys rib him for his old-fashioned manners – Ben wants it. It’s right there in his face, his body, his every look and every word. He wants it. If what they say about the Jedi is true, then wanting may not be the same as having. But alcohol helps overcome all kinds of inhibitions. If Ben happens to get drunk enough to crawl into Ren’s bed tonight, who’s Ren to turn him down?

I’ll do the kid good. Give him something better to do with his mouth than whine about his perfectly nice-sounding family.

‘...Never wanted to let me _use_ my power,’ the kid is saying. Ren’s only half-listening. Yeah, that pouty mouth would look great wrapped around his cock. If he can work his way past all Ben’s years of Jedi damage, he wins no matter how it ends: either Snoke’s right and he gets a powerful new acolyte, or first impressions are right and he gets a few weeks of fun before the kid slinks back to his mother’s lap. ‘Why bother learning the ways of the Force if all you’re going to do is sit around and meditate? That’s why I’ve come to you. I’m ready to test my strength. To get out there and do something with it.’

A long silence follows. Ren yanks his attention back above belt height and finds the kid watching him intently, like he expects Ren to set down his drink and disclose all the secrets of the shadow on the spot. ‘No tests tonight, kid,’ he says, aiming for suave around the tongue-curling taste of the horrible whiskey. ‘Tonight’s about getting to know each other better. Why don’t you tell me what you do for fun? Fulfillment, that’s what the shadow can give you. Whatever you crave most in life. Money? Adventure? Attractive women?’ He pauses, lifts an eyebrow and grins over the rim of his glass. ‘Attractive men?’

Ben knocks back another gagging mouthful and sets his glass on the bar. ‘I need air,’ he says. Unsteady gait when he rises to his feet. Eyes a million miles away, stewing on mean old Uncle Luke and the dreary hymn call of his own Force destiny. Ren’s not sure he even noticed the come-on.

Whatever. Jedi damage. It doesn’t have to be tonight – the wait will only make it sweeter.

* * *

They hole up for a while at an inn on Raithi. Real shithole of a place, with itchy blankets and newspapered windows and a whiff of backed-up sewage coming from every drain in every ‘fresher. But it’s cheap, and the proprietor doesn’t give a fuck what hour they come and go or who they bring into their rooms. While Ren hits up old contacts for a lead that could break their holding pattern, his Knights catch up on the important business they’ve been neglecting while on the move: drinking, smoking, sitting around and scratching their junk. Hard-earned downtime. They know to enjoy it while it lasts. 

Kid’s not impressed. As the days draw on, his nervous energy turns into restless energy, and he takes to casting dark looks at the other Knights whenever they put their feet up or crack another beer. 

‘Is this really all you do?’ he asks Ren one evening, in a voice that’s lost most of its flustered respect since the night he joined them. ‘I thought the Knights of Ren were legendary warriors.’ His curled lip broadcasts all the alternative labels he’s pretending to be too polite to add.

‘If you don’t like our style, you know where the door is.’ The frustration is well on its way to becoming mutual: Ren thought he was getting a new piece of ass, and so far all he’s had is complaints and bad attitude. Ren's not holding it against him yet. A bit of hard-to-get isn’t necessarily a turnoff, but there’s only so much time he’s willing to spend in pursuit. Ben would do well to remember _he’s_ the one meant to be impressing _them._ ‘Maybe the time would go faster if you got off your high horse and made nice with the boys instead of sulking on your own. That trashy holoshow you insist on watching every damn night–’

‘The news?’

‘Yeah, that. Notice how you’re the only one who watches it? You came here begging us to teach you a new way of living, but so far it seems like you’re just doing what you always did and expecting your life to change anyway. If you want to be one of us, maybe you should be more like them.’

Ben glances over at the lounge, where Vicrul is holding court over the others with a joke about a drunken hooker. One hand flicks ash from a cigarette while the other cups his groin between sprawled legs, ready to adjust his business should the urge arise. ‘I don’t want to be one of them,’ Ben says. He has the look on his face again – the quiet, standoffish confidence of a boy raised since birth to think the sun shines out of his tight little hole. ‘They’re followers. Lackeys. No vision of their own, and no ambition in life except to attach themselves to someone stronger. I came here to learn from you, Ren. When are you going to start teaching me?’

Hoo, boy. Kid’s going to be a firecracker in the sack when he eventually puts out. ‘Those _lackeys_ have proved their worth to me time and time again,’ he says, leaning in and baring his teeth in the smile that nearly made Ben shit his pants that first night. The effect is less dramatic now, but he can’t not notice the way Ben’s eyes are drawn to his lips. ‘You, Ben Solo, still haven’t done that. I’ll teach you when I decide you’re worth teaching.’

‘And what’ll make you decide?’

‘Get in the spirit of things,’ Ren says. ‘Cut loose. Drop the prissy act. Show me the animal you really are under those rich boy manners. That’s who I want to teach.’

Ben takes the advice. Not on all fours like Ren was hoping. But he does cause a mildly amusing scuffle later that night, when he lets Ap’lek deal him in at the sabacc table and cleans up so decisively that no one’s sure if he cheated on his own or if Ap’lek somehow helped him in exchange for a cut of the winnings.

‘I didn’t cheat at all,’ Ben tells six sets of deaf ears, rolling a newly won coin across his knuckles. ‘You guys just suck at cards.’

‘You can suck my card in a minute,’ Trudgen growls. Not his best effort, but it works on the kid.

‘What card?' Ben curls his lip in a sneer he probably practiced in front of the mirror. 'I busted you out of the game three rounds ago.’

The ensuing ruckus is so loud it attracts the attention of their till-now-indifferent innkeeper. ‘You assholes pipe down in there,’ the old man yells, hammering on the door until it swings forward on its shoddy hinges. There he stands in his nightgown and slippers, glaring from under a pair of overgrown eyebrows. ‘It’s sleep time, and you ain’t my only paying customers.’

Choosing not to intervene, Ren enjoys the unexpected sight of Ben rushing the innkeeper before the others can make it off their lazy asses. ‘They’re not paying customers at all,’ he crows, eyes gleaming with manic energy. ‘I just emptied all their pockets.’ Then he slams the door. The old man doesn’t move fast enough. A howl of pain joins the cacophony as the wood connects with his face.

It was getting past time to move on anyway. Ren’s contacts have pointed him towards a job on Navaar – not a major windfall, but enough to plump their coffers while he finds something better.

‘I’m starting to like that kid,’ Ushar tells Ren as they hoof it back to the relative peace and quiet of the _Buzzard._ ‘Thought he was a fuckin’ wet blanket when you brought him in, but he has his moments.’

‘Don’t get too fond yet,’ Ren warns. That old guy’s broken face was a laugh, but he’s annoyed that the upheaval means yet another night of enjoying his new plaything only in dreams. ‘He’s got a long way to go before he earns his place as one of us.’

Ushar huffs through his anti-ox filters. ‘You got it, boss.’

* * *

Their easy win on Navaar turns out not so easy. The payload’s worth the trip, alright, but it’s also huge – a segmented obelisk, salvaged landfill from some extinct civilisation Ren’s never heard of, each piece as tall as he is and so heavy it takes three guys to lift. They brought an antigrav trolley, of course, but they’ll be lucky if the repulsors hold up to the weight.

While the Knights are loading pieces one and two, Ben scrunches his eyes and breathes deep like he’s all blocked up. Ren’s ready to yell for him to get his dumb ass over and help when piece three floats off the ground and starts drifting toward the trolley.

Everyone stops work. ‘The fuck,’ grunts Cardo, breathless through his vocoder.

‘Everything weighs the same in the Force,’ says Ben. He sounds calm, but Ren can tell he likes the attention. ‘You just have to train your mind to look beyond the physical mass.’

‘How?’ Ap’lek asks, like the idiot’s never met a Jedi before. This is exactly the kind of shit Ben’s meant to be moving away from. Lifting rocks, spouting idioms, what use is any of that in the real world? It’s come in handy today, sure, but that’s just a fluke. A couple of properly collared wookiees could lift the segment without anyone oohing or aahing.

‘Nice job, kid,’ he says, clapping his hands together to halt Ben’s smug explanation in its tracks. ‘I bet that party trick earned you great marks back at Jedi school. Did your Uncle Luke teach it to you himself?’

The kid’s too gormless to hide his wounded anger at the mention of Skywalker. ‘You want the obelisk, I’m getting you the obelisk. Isn’t that the point of the mission?’

‘The point of _your_ mission is to follow my orders. I was going to put you on guard duty to make sure we don’t all get gunned down while we’re loading cargo, but…’ He pauses, letting Ben scour his masked face for a clue to the end of the sentence. ‘If you’d rather show off your skills at manual labour, that’s fine, too.’

He expects the reprimand to scare Ben back in his box a bit. Kid’s not the first new recruit Ren has had to read the rulebook to – yeah, rulebook. People call the Knights of Ren lawless, but they’ve got it all wrong. They wouldn’t be knights if they didn’t have a code. First item on that code: they’re the Knights _of Ren._ Ren’s knights. Knights who report to Ren and obey him to the letter. But it’s not shame turning Ben’s face red – it’s annoyance, veering on something that looks dangerously like contempt. ‘I can do both at once,’ he scoffs. ‘If anyone approaches us with violent intent, I’ll sense it in the Force long before they come into view.’ He gives Ren the kind of haughty once-over that by all rights deserves a sucker punch. ‘Are you really so afraid of getting caught?’

‘He’s not afraid at all,’ Vicrul pipes up in the moment’s silence it takes Ren to rally from the shock of being talked back to. ‘He’s just sour because he can’t do that shit.’

‘Ren tried being a Jedi once too, you know,’ adds Trudgen. The fuckers have sniffed blood in the water – that, or they’re too lazy to move cargo themselves now they know Ben's capable of doing it for them. ‘Dropped out. Fuckin’ hated it. Hey, Ren, what was the name of your master guy?’

‘I never told you his name,’ Ren snarls. ‘Because it’s none of your fucking business. And I never dropped out – I learned what I wanted to learn, and then I killed him and claimed his blade for myself.’ His hand rests on the hilt clipped to his belt, alive with lethal potential crackling just beneath the emitter switch. He’s mad for real now. Mad not only that His Fucking Highness is dishing out attitude, but that the boys are playing along because they’re too bone idle to shift a few rocks by hand. ‘Ben, get over to that door and stand guard like I told you. Kuruk, Ushar, back to the _Buzzard_ and make space for our haul. Cardo, Trudgen, Vicrul, Ap’lek: get this shit moving, double time. Two to an obelisk. Put your lazy backs into it, and I don’t want to hear any more bitching from anyone.’

No one’s happy by the time the cargo’s on the trolley. The boys are exhausted, sweating so much that the open space is choked with the acrid tang of their fatigue. Ben looks bored. With no interruptions from station security, his guard shift has consisted of keeping time and practicing tricks with the little sleeve-dagger Cardo gave him. He’s going to want to perform for them with it any day now.

On the _Buzzard,_ Kuruk and Ushar look almost as sour as the others smell. They haven’t enjoyed their stint on maid duty.

Whatever. They have what they came for. ‘It’s not all glamour,’ Ren tells Ben, as they launch off the station with a juddering groan thanks to the extra weight of the obelisk. No point hanging onto a grudge. He’s made his point. He puts a hand on Ben’s thigh, and Ben doesn’t turn red or wriggle away in flustered confusion – progress. ‘Drudge work like this takes half a cycle at most and lets us live how we want for months. Even if you don’t always see the point–’

‘It’s not hard to see,’ says Ben, sharp like the edge of his little toy dagger. He’s ready to boil over. Ren can feel the heat through his pants leg, pulsing like lava through the artery in his thigh. ‘This isn’t my first smuggling run, Ren.’

So that’s why he’s been such a defiant little shit all day. Figures. ‘Kid,’ says Ren, and skates his hand a little higher up Ben’s thigh, ‘I am _nothing_ like your daddy. Trust me. Once we offload this obelisk, I’ll take you somewhere real nice to prove it.’

Ben purses his lips. ‘When are you going to start teaching me the ways of the dark side?’

‘I am teaching you. Not my fault you’re a slow student.’

That doesn’t win him any points. Kid’s probably never been told in his life that he’s anything less than the apple of the whole galaxy’s eye. He shrugs off Ren’s hand, retreating to his cabin with one last lingering look back. He’s so messed up. So full of hurts he can’t soothe alone and needs he doesn’t know how to satisfy. 

It’s going to feel so good when he cracks. Ren can wait a little longer.

* * *

Their fence double-crosses them. He’s a new associate, friend of a friend, who Ren’s contacts say can get top dollar for the obelisk. Maybe no one warned him who the Knights of Ren are. Or maybe they did, and that’s why the rendezvous party includes a dozen military sec droids. 

Hell knows how an antiquities dealer got his hands on that kind of firepower.

But no droid is a match for Ren’s boys at their best. They dice up the clankers, and Ben gets his chance to prove he can fight someone bigger than a grumpy old innkeeper – he blocks a couple of bolts with the Force and deflects the rest back at the droids, which Ren has to admit is pretty cool. Then the non-droid backup starts pouring in. Ben’s less good at fighting organics. Most of them get left to the boys, though Ben does manage to chop one hired thug’s head off, and when the fighting’s done he turns his blood-spattered face on Ren with eyes as wide as twin full moons.

‘Not bad, kid,’ Ren says, because it’s obvious he wants an asspat.

‘I killed him,’ says Ben, like it won’t be real until he tastes the words. ‘I killed that man.’ He’s breathing hard. ‘I told you I could kill.’

‘Self-defence hardly counts. He’d have done you if you didn’t do him first. Still … decapitation, very bold. I’m loving the visuals. Why don’t you stick his head on a pike? Nice message for anyone else who thinks it’s a good idea to try and rip us off.’

‘The boss and his fuckin’ visuals,’ Vicrul mutters, as Ben makes inching motions towards the severed head, his bare face flushed with excitement and terror. ‘What I want to know is what we’re meant to do with this goddamn rock now we’ve fallen out with our only buyer.’

There’s no such thing as an only buyer. Ren’s not worried about the obelisk – they’ll find someone else willing to part with a wad of credits for it. He watches Ben’s broad chest heave with pulse after pulse of adrenaline, and he knows in both his gut and his groin that tonight’s the night. This trip wasn’t a waste of time after all.

Ben’s still vibrating out of his skin hours later when Ren finds him in his cabin. The place is fucking immaculate, bed made, meagre possessions stacked in folded piles on the storage shelf. Ren’s not one to take much note of decorations, but he can’t help spotting the human tooth displayed on the headboard, its roots bloody and cracked like someone with very shaky hands did a botch job of yanking it out of – for example – a hired thug’s freshly severed head. Does the kid like souvenirs? Trudgen does this thing where he takes weapons and armour from his fallen enemies, which is kooky enough. Actual dead body parts take the act a bit far.

At least a tooth won’t stink the place up. They’ll have a problem if it progresses to fingers.

Ben’s cross-legged on the bed in sock feet, his boots paired neatly by the door where they can’t sully his perfect floors with mud. It looks like Ren caught him in the middle of one of his meditations. He kicks his own boots off to be polite, and waves to discourage Ben from getting up. Sits down beside him. Leans back on the covers. Makes himself at home in the small space.

‘You did good today, kid. How do you feel?’

‘Fine.’ Ben’s thinking something through. His brows are furrowed, and he looks Ren carefully up and down. At last, he says: ‘I know what you want from me. I’m not as naive as you think.’

He sounds wary but not hostile. Ren knows how prickly Ben gets when he’s challenged, so doesn’t point out that what he _wants_ was never meant to be a secret, or that it’s taken Ben multiple painful weeks to come to a conclusion most guys his age would have reached in seconds. ‘I don’t think you’re naive,’ he lies. ‘I think you’ve been brainwashed by all that Jedi bullshit into thinking life’s more complex than it is. I asked you right at the start and you never answered. I’ll ask again. What is it _you_ want, Ben Solo?’

‘I don’t know.’

He sounds world-weary in a way no swaddled rich kid has any right to be. It’s not _I want you, Ren._ It’s not _show me._ It’s not _please._ But Ren can work with it. ‘That’s where I come in. I’m gonna clear things right up for you. Make it feel so good you won’t have to waste another minute of your life wondering.’

He takes off his helmet. Sets it on top of the headboard besides the kid’s horrible new trophy tooth, then grabs Ben’s chin with a firm hand and turns him so they’re face to face a few inches apart. ‘All you have to do is ask,’ he nudges.

Ben doesn’t ask. The blood has rushed to his cheeks and he stares at Ren, frozen, like he’s scared of what’s about to happen. He has nothing to be scared of. Not in this room. Ren prides himself on being a gentleman in bed, and he’s waited long enough already that there’s no sense rushing things now.

He starts with a kiss. It’s not a great kiss, honestly, and only ten percent or so of that is down to Ben’s inexperience – that part’s endearing, all clumsy teeth and shaky breath. The other ninety percent of suckage is down to Ben’s _bossiness._ He won’t yield. Won’t let Ren do his thing. Keeps trying to kiss back, trying to get his tongue in Ren’s mouth, as if he wasn’t frozen like a deer in headlights five seconds ago. So Ren changes tack and kisses a path down his throat, finding the pulse point that beats wildly above his bobbing Adam’s apple. Distracted, Ben lets himself fall backwards, easing all the way down onto the mattress where Ren can pull his shirt up to expose more skin for the full body treatment. He likes the way Ben squirms when Ren’s lips touch his chest, his nipples, the top of his stomach. Likes the fluttering muscles and the hitch of breath and the fact that the kid’s at last stopped fighting him.

‘You ever had your cock sucked?’ Ren doesn’t wait for the answer because he already knows. No one’s ever tasted this kid besides Ren – no one’s ever touched him. Blood thrums in Ren’s veins and sets a rhythm his hips long to follow. First he’s going to reduce Ben to jelly. After that he’s going to fuck him, slow and tender while he learns how to take it, then deep and hard till he screams Ren’s name like the bitch he is. He undoes Ben’s belt, loosens his waistband, nips a sweet-sharp line down the trail of hair on his stomach and stops when thick curls tickle his chin. ‘You want it? Tell me you want it.’

Ben’s voice is ragged. ‘I want it.’ A sharp intake of breath as Ren tugs his pants further down and kisses the crease of his thigh. ‘Do it.’

Still no _please_ – so much for those well-bred manners. Ren can’t hold it against him. Kid’s too overwhelmed to string more than a couple of words together. Ren takes the head of Ben’s cock in his mouth and swirls his tongue, teasing the sensitive underside and the salty slit. Ben makes a sound and grabs a handful of Ren’s hair. Pulls tight. Arches up. Tries to force his way deeper inside Ren’s mouth.

The saving grace is that he doesn’t try for very long. Annoyed and gagging, Ren has half a mind to deliver Ben’s next lesson in the shadow with his teeth, but then all at once his mouth is full of bitter fluid. He spits it out in a sticky pool on the bedsheet. Ben slackens, breathing hard, and gazes at Ren with eyes that are too trembly-soft to stay mad at. Five seconds of action and he pops. That’s just cute.

‘You alright there, kid? Still with me?’ Knowing Ben’s self-serious tendencies, now would be a good time to say something wise about fulfilment and the power of the shadow. But wise and horny don’t go together. Ren’s cock strains in his pants, ready as all hell for what comes next – for Ben, spent and satisfied, to let Ren fuck that tight little hole till it gapes.

Ben exhales in a rush. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far. C’mon – all fours.’ Ben blinks up at him. Those hazy eyes gain focus. ‘You can stay how you are if you prefer, but I know you haven’t done this before. Ass up’s usually a better angle for beginners.’

‘No. No way. We’re not…’ He can’t even get the word out. Yeesh. ‘We’re not doing that.’

‘You bet your literal ass we’re doing that. What kind of game do you think we’re playing, kid? You got yours. It wasn’t a freebie.’

‘No,’ Ben says again. ‘Not like that.’ He puts his hand on Ren’s cock, cupping through the fabric, and it’s such a sad excuse of a consolation prize that Ren sees red.

Kid’s had it coming for a while. It’s only because Ren’s such a gentleman that it’s gone on for as long as it has. Firm hand. That’s what you give a kid who’s being bratty. Ben’s still lying down, so Ren pins him, climbing on top and wedging a knee between Ben’s legs so that if he struggles too much he’ll be basically whacking himself in the balls. He wanted to make this good for both of them. He’s mad at Ben for forcing him to get rough.

Ben thrashes beneath him, straining to dislodge his weight, and there’s a few moments like a raging barfight where Ren can hardly keep track of which limb belongs to who. He manages to stay on top and get a hand between them, free his cock from his pants. He grinds against Ben’s stomach, leaving a smear of precum on pale exposed skin. Kisses him again. More teeth this time. The sound Ben makes is only half protest, and a new thrill runs through Ren as he feels that spent cock hardening against him once more. This isn’t what he had in mind but maybe it’s something better. Ben doesn’t want to give it up – he wants to have it taken. Ren can work with that.

He barely even has to compromise his principles. Wanting counts as wanting, even if the way it’s expressed comes out sounding like _no._

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he growls in Ben’s ear. ‘Last chance to bend over nicely so I can lube you up.’

‘Fuck you, Ren.’

‘Wrong way around.’ Ren gets his forearm across Ben’s throat, which buys him just enough advantage to shift further down and spit on his own hand. He slicks himself up as well as he can, throbbing with a kind of excitement he hasn’t felt in years. He gets his cock between Ben’s thighs. Ben clamps them tight, clawing at Ren’s arm to keep the pressure off his windpipe, and Ren’s lost in the raw, aggressive joy of action after all that idle waiting. He grinds, and it’s so unexpectedly intense that his eyes scrunch shut in pleasure.

Ben’s grinding back. Making angry, needy little noises like he can’t decide whether he loves or hates what’s happening to him. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

He yelps when Ren manages to get his cock between his ass cheeks, nudging his unlubed hole with the blunt head. It’s going to chafe like hell and, honestly, at this point it’s a price Ren’s willing to pay. Except when he tries to thrust in, he can’t. He fucking _can’t._ An invisible force stays his hips, holds the prize just tantalisingly out of reach, and the surge of anger feels so much like arousal that Ren’s revved-up brain can no longer tell the difference. He grinds. Keeps grinding. Can’t bring himself to stop, and it doesn’t feel like him anymore, it doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He can’t tell what’s happening and it feels awful and unbearably good.

It doesn’t feel like much of a victory when the invisible force-field gives just enough for him to push the very tip of his cock in. Ben’s hole is as tight as Ren dreamed it would be, clenching around him as he digs his fingers into Ren’s forearm and groans. Ren barely gets a second to experience it, barely gets past the first excruciating inch. When he comes – taking himself by surprise – his release spills shallowly inside, cock head on fire with warm, tight pleasure as his shaft pulses untouched. Through the spasms he feels cum splash his stomach as Ben spills too. They’re left panting, shaking, bruised and fucking livid with each other. 

Ren’s livid, at least. He doesn’t give a fuck how the kid feels.

‘I’ve been thinking of you ever since that day on Elphrona,’ Ben says, when Ren decides the power rush of having Ben trapped beneath him is no longer worth the resentment of being skin to skin with the little prick, and rolls off. ‘You’re not what I thought you’d be.’

Ren snorts. Something in his mouth tastes bitter, and it’s not just the residue of Ben’s cum. ‘You’re not what I thought you’d be, either.’ 

He wipes his stomach with a corner of Ben’s blanket. Let the kid sleep in the fucking mess. Let his dreams taste bitter, too.

* * *

They still have a giant unsold obelisk taking up half their cargo hold. But that falls by the wayside when word arrives of a job on Mimban. Apparently some gormless miners are hanging onto a shard that could fetch enough on the black market to keep the boys in booze for months _and_ pay for a parade of hookers to make up for what a letdown the kid’s turned out to be.

He hasn’t told the boys yet, or Snoke, but after last night his mind’s made up. Ben's worth fuck all as a piece of ass. He shows no real promise as a student of the shadow. He’ll call this mission Ben’s final chance to prove himself and he fully intends for Ben to fail.

This ends on Mimban. Snoke will understand. Sometimes things just don’t work out.


End file.
